


Talking Points

by solversonlou



Category: Fargo (TV)
Genre: Canon-Typical Misogyny/Racism etc., Canon-Typical Violence, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-28
Updated: 2017-05-28
Packaged: 2018-11-06 01:35:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11025849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/solversonlou/pseuds/solversonlou
Summary: Yuri and Meemo speak more often than people realise.





	Talking Points

They speak more often than Varga realises.

He observes the Russian talking about stories from his homeland to an unresponsive Meemo, who usually just sits there, only speaking when absolutely necessary, music usually blasting in his ears.

What Varga doesn't see, when he's off threatening Stussy or Sy, is the conversations the two men have.

They're rare, but they're often started when Yuri says something Meemo finds to be factually incorrect, and Yuri narrows his eyes towards the man, frustrated.

"Oh, so now you speak?" He scoots back in the rolling office chair in their shared living space, the space they usually share with their employer.

"I've spoken before," Meemo says, matter-of-factly. He crosses the room, taking out his earphones as he walks. 

"Yes," Yuri says dryly, unamused, tilting his head as Meemo stops in front of the desk, leaning over it to look at the fake documents Varga has set up for the company. "Just the other day, you called me an asshole."

"You were being one," Meemo clicks his tongue before looking up at Yuri from the paperwork, a small smile playing on his features.

Yuri swallows, heat prickling his skin. The guy gets under his skin, he'll give him that. It's an odd feeling, sometimes it's playful, mutual joking that leaves them both chuckling, but mostly it's this. It feels like a game.

"We have work to do," Yuri says, standing up from the desk, hands still dug in the pockets of his tracksuit. "You are tiny, so I will get the boxes from the shelf."

Meemo rolls his eyes, unfazed by the insult as he puts his earphones back in. "Okay."

\- - -

They're drinking in a seedy bar that Sy had been in hours before, the two of them having tracked him all day before Varga had taken over and escorted the befuddled, tipsy man out of the building, letting Meemo and Yuri know that he shan't be needing them tonight, and not to come back to the trailer.

The beer is disgusting, but it does the job. 

Meemo is considerably less drunk than Yuri, but he's feeling the buzz as the night goes on, cradling his fourth beer as Yuri points his beer bottle at random patrons of the bar, the two of them sat at a booth table, still on Sy's tab.

"You see these fat pigs?" He slurs, directing it towards a small group of middle aged women, sat at the bar, slumped over. "We don't have women like that in bars in Russia, unless they work behind it. I could get any pretty face to suck my dick." 

"Russian women are ugly," Meemo says after a pause, taking a sip of his bottle. He can feel Yuri's unimpressed, heated stare on him immediately. Clinking his bottle down, Meemo shrugs. "Too tall, looks manly."

Yuri rolls his eyes before chuckling. "Every woman is too tall for you, unless you fuck a midget."

Meemo frowns, jabs his beer in Yuri's direction. "I could fuck any woman here."

"So you'd rather fuck a fat American pig than a Russian beauty?" Yuri tuts, placing his lips over the lip of his bottle as he smiles. Meemo flushes hot. "Such sad standards you have, my friend."

\- - -

The motel they find has a room with two beds and takes cash, so it's ideal for them.

The guy behind the counter doesn't seem to bat an eyelash at the fact that two intoxicated men and one slightly intoxicated, older woman are booking in together, which is lucky, they suppose.

"I haven't gotta fuck both of you, have I?" The woman asks as they stumble into the motel room, hanging off of Meemo, who props her up despite her size advantage. "Cause I'm not being funny, sweetheart, but your friend is not my type."

Yuri has the right mind to backhand her, but he chooses not to, plus he really wants to just piss and go to sleep. Stumbling towards the bathroom whilst undoing his belt, he waves a dismissive hand. "Go ahead. I don't fuck pigs."

Meemo isn't even sure why he's going ahead with this. The woman is far from attractive, but he has to prove a point somehow.

"You don't talk much, do you, hon?" She says, pulling him down onto the bed. He resists her grip, doesn't want her to think she's in charge. This seems to delight her. "Ooh, I like a man who can put up a fight. You can choke me if you want."

Yuri snorts from the bathroom, the sound of him pissing putting Meemo off even further. 

The woman distracts Meemo with the broad map of her hands and if Meemo closes his eyes, he can picture someone better. Perhaps a girl from back home, or that girl he kicked the shit out of a few weeks back. Probably not the best pick, but it'll do.

He opens his eyes a few minutes into the press of a hand against his crotch, catches Yuri just as he's coming out of the bathroom, dressed in nothing but a pair of generic white underwear.

Meemo glances over him for a moment, the tattoos and the scars from switchblade wounds, the bruises from fist fights. Hair peppers his skin, and honestly, he looks a fucking mess, but Meemo doesn't get the sense of disgust he gets when this woman with the thin lips and sweaty palms touches him.

"Have fun," Yuri salutes, crawling into the other bed and flipping over onto his side, back facing Meemo, who lets out a long sigh in frustration.

Meemo doesn't get to actually having sex with the woman. He doesn't know if he can even bring himself to do that, physically. Instead, he keeps his eyes closed as she blows him, tries to think about anything else but the woman performing it. He's still thinking about the bar, about Yuri's teasing, then Yuri sitting across from him with his lips wrapped around his beer bottle, smiling as he looks up at him from beneath dark lashes.

Meemo isn't vocal during this, but the woman more than makes up that, vocalising her pleasure, something Yuri has to hear, and very much seems to be amused by, chuckling as the whole thing conspires. It's when Meemo is close, and he opens his eyes to see Yuri looking at him in the dark, the same smirk on his face from earlier at the bar, does he let go.

Meemo kicks the woman out without a word said besides her kicking up a fuss, calling him a jackass as Yuri chuckles and flips back over on his bed in the dark.

Climbing back into his bed, Meemo stares at the ceiling.

"Congratulations," Yuri says from his bed. "You proved you can score trash."

"Shut up and go to sleep," Meemo responds, shoving his earphones in his ears.

He'll barely sleep that night.

\- - -

Remarkably, Yuri has never been shot before now.

"Do me a favour and deal with him, would you?" Varga says to Meemo as he's exiting the trailer, dabbing at his own blood stained cheek with a handkerchief. "Oh, and Yuri, of course. He shan't be needing a hospital, but I'm concerned he may make it worse, digging out all that shrapnel."

Meemo nods, his throat a little tight at the prospect of Yuri having had a brush with death. He's never been exactly concerned for the man's safety, but the knowledge that perhaps the man isn't so indestructible after all is a lot to process.

The trailer is a bloodbath. There's a man, an associate of Stussy's, riddled with bullet holes and laying in a pool of blood. Meemo had only been gone for twenty minutes, tracking Sy around, and he'd come back to this shit show.

"What the fuck?!" Is all Meemo can say, looking up from the scene to see Yuri in the office chair, picking at an open wound in his arm with his bare fingers. Meemo frowns, cringing at the way Yuri hisses in pain. "Stop. You'll make it worse."

"I'm preventing infection," Yuri says through gritted teeth, wincing at the hot pain, head a little dizzy as he lifts it to look at Meemo crossing the room towards where they keep a first aid kit in a filing cabinet.

"Not with dirty fingers," Meemo pulls out a pair of tweezers and a bottle of wound disinfectant before shoving a plastic wrapped roll of bandages into his jacket pocket. "Don't want to know where they've been."

"Your mother's pussy," Yuri cracks a mocking laugh, but winces when pain shoots through his arm. He leans back as Meemo approaches him, silent now in anticipation of how much shoving metal tweezers into his arm is going to hurt.

"If you move, I'll make it hurt more," Meemo warns him, leaning over and pressing his fingers lightly below the torn off part of Yuri's sleeve where he'd wrapped it around his bicep to stem the blood flow. At least he knew how to do that. 

"I'll kill you," Yuri jokes, looking up at Meemo with that familiar smirk on his features. 

Catching his eye, Meemo can't help but feel his own lips curl into a small, suppressed smile. "You can try."

\- - -

"You were very gentle," Yuri says a few days later, when he's pulling back his bandage to check the wound. He's mostly joking, but Meemo still feels a flush of heat rising through him.

The trailer is clean now, not a spot of blood or skull fragment on the floor or walls. 

Meemo rolls back in the chair Yuri had been sat in days before, pulls out one of his earphones as he studies him. "Keep it clean. Your hygiene is terrible."

"You can give me a sponge bath," Yuri jokes yet again. Looking at Meemo from across the room, his eyes grow dark under the dim lighting as he smiles. "Like a proper nurse."

Meemo scowls as he puts his earphone back in. "Shut up."

\- - -

They're following Sy yet again.

Varga had told them to shake him up a bit, enter his house when he's sleeping and move things around, leave a note insinuating that someone is aware of his shady dealings. They cannot be seen, however. Varga makes this explicitly clear. 

Meemo had suggested it be a one man job, but Varga had insisted they go together. (He was sick of seeing Yuri sitting around like a bored dog whenever Meemo wasn't there.)

They're in the Feltz's kitchen when Yuri takes out a bag from his jacket and opens it.

Meemo, being hit by a stench unlike any other, scrunches his nose up as he looks away from where he's leaving the note on Sy's fridge, towards Yuri who raises his eyebrows at him from across the room. Meemo tilts his head with a frown as if to wordlessly say: _"What the fuck?"_

Yuri mouths, wordlessly what looks like: _"dog shit."_

"Do you want a snack, hon?" A light comes on in the hallway, a woman's voice calling through the house, and Yuri and Meemo's eyes widen as they look at each other, frozen in place.

Yuri presses a finger to his lips, a shushing motion as he waves Meemo over towards him.

Meemo doesn't seem to even question Yuri's plan, which is strange considering it wasn't as if they had a map of Sy's entire house for an unplanned exit strategy.

There's a walk in closet, just off the kitchen in a hallway conjoining rooms. 

It doesn't seem to hold anything important like jackets or shoes, something the residents would need if they chose to look for whoever was responsible for the home invasion.

Meemo pulls at Yuri's jacket as they enter through the sliding doors, making sure his towering frame doesn't press against the pliable wood so they don't get caught. 

It's a tight fit, Yuri hunched over as they stand, facing each other, heads turned towards the small slats in the door.

It's too dark to see anything beyond the light turning on in the kitchen, but Meemo can feel the weight of Yuri besides him, his arm pressed to Meemo's front at the awkward angle.

Yuri shifts to get a better look through the door, light illuminating a woman's shadow as she walks about the kitchen and yells up for her husband. Yuri freezes when he feels Meemo's hand, palm flat below his ribcage, holding him in place to stop him from making a noise with all of his shifting around.

"Shh," Meemo whispers, breath hitting Yuri's cheek in Yuri's hunched over position. He's close, far too close in the small space between them, and it takes a moment for Yuri to remember how to breathe.

The commotion in the kitchen grows louder as Sy enters the room, asking his wife what's wrong, followed by a noise of horror as he studies the room. "Oh, dear lord."

"We have to leave," Yuri whispers, watching as Sy paces around the room and his wife sobs. 

"No," Meemo whispers, curling his fingers into the material of Yuri's shirt, pulling him closer until Meemo is essentially pressed against the taller man's back, his lips hovering against Yuri's shoulder. "Relax. Wait."

Meemo can feel the thud of Yuri's heart, hard and fast against his fingers. He swallows, the warm weight of Yuri against him stirring something inside him, and he's praying for Sy and his wife to leave the room to call the cops so they can slip out through the door. 

It takes a few more minutes of muffled speech, but Sy and his wife exit through the kitchen entrance and walk by the closet. Yuri's hand reaches into his pocket, and the fingers on Meemo's free hand clasp around his wrist, his arm encircling him.

"Quiet job," Meemo repeats Varga's words as Sy and his wife make their way to the living room and their landline phone. Yuri nods and Meemo drops his grip on him, shifting to slide open the doors of the closet slowly. "Stay behind me. We'll go out the back."

They manage to slip out without being spotted, Yuri following close behind with his heart in his throat.

The drive back to the trailer is one in silence, Yuri white knuckling the steering wheel as Meemo closes his eyes and listens to his music. 

Yuri glances at him in the overhead mirror every so often.

He can still feel his hand on his chest.

\- - -

They don't speak much for a few weeks. 

They mostly intimidate Stussy's workers, especially the receptionist, who tries to force a smile at Yuri, who in return leers at her as Meemo watches in silence, brow furrowed and music blasting in his ears.

Meemo hates it.

Yuri doesn't care much for it either.

\- - -

The shower in the trailer isn't the best, the water running cold most of the time, but Yuri is used to the feeling, and besides, he could do with something to distract him from his own head. 

He can't exactly do anything in there besides stand under the spray and use the cheap soap Varga insists on buying despite seemingly having money pouring out of his pockets. The water's too cold for Yuri to get hard, a bonus he supposes after the past few weeks where he'd woken up with a hard-on most nights, the memory of that night in the motel and being stuck in Sy's closet lingering behind his eyes.

He doesn't think to get dressed before he leaves the small bathroom, just throws a towel on around his waist and makes his way across the trailer, forgetting that the subject of his thoughts as of late is hanging around. 

Meemo glances up from his phone, sat on the cheap cot he sleeps in most nights, catching the sight of Yuri before him, back turned to him as he searches through a sports bag on his own cot for his clothes.

Yuri's skin, exposed and damp from the shower, brings Meemo back to that night in the motel, back to him ripping his shirt off after Meemo had cleaned up his bullet wound, skin damp with sweat. There's tattoos on his back that Meemo hasn't noticed before, black ink stretching over scars, Russian lettering that Meemo doesn't understand. 

He wonders if he should ask him what they mean, but figures it's probably best not to, so he looks back down at his phone and scrolls through his music.

Meemo can't help but say something, though, when he sees Yuri in the corner of his eye, prodding at the scarred tissue of his bicep as he sits on his own bed, opposite him. "Don't pick it."

Yuri looks up, damp hair clinging to his forehead as he frowns. "I'm not."

"It should be healed by now," Meemo says, looking up at him as Yuri looks away again, inspecting the healed over wound. 

"It is," Yuri says, pinching the discoloured skin, the scar stretching over his shoulder like a lightning bolt. "Mostly."

Meemo reaches forward instinctively as soon as Yuri's bitten down, sharpened nail catches the skin, tearing it slightly. 

Yuri winces at the knick, but it's when Meemo's warm fingers press to his shoulder and his other hand moves to his arm, does he react, looking up at Meemo with raised eyebrows as he leans into his space.

Meemo frowns, eyes concerned as he wipes a thumb across the small drop of blood that trickles down Yuri's arm. 

It's when Meemo feels Yuri's fingers, pressing over his knuckles where he's touching Yuri's shoulder, does he meet his eye. 

Yuri's eyes are dark, looking up at him from beneath his eyelashes as Meemo's fingers relax under his grip.

Meemo is taken aback, as if suddenly aware of their closeness, as if he hadn't been the one to reach out and touch him. Breath shaky in his chest, Meemo's eyes drag to Yuri's lips, full and parted, and it brings him back to the bar, the stretch of them over his beer bottle, the smirk in the motel room.

Yuri's fingers move with Meemo's, almost guiding them to his face as Meemo cups his cheek. Yuri turns his face into the touch and brushes his lips against the inside of Meemo's palm, eyes sliding shut as he tries to breathe, chest feeling like it had done when they were trapped in that closet.

Meemo tilts Yuri's face towards him, inhales sharply as he bridges the gap between them, thumb holding the man's cheek in place as their lips press together.

Yuri responds almost immediately to the touch, neck tilting up as they move together, his fingers reaching out to Meemo's t-shirt, drawing him closer. Leaning back on his bed, Yuri pulls Meemo down towards him, lips parting as Meemo runs his tongue across the seam of them. 

Meemo kisses him with such a hunger that Yuri can't quite keep up with it, but Yuri doesn't seem to care when Meemo's straddling his waist, fingers pressed into his hair as he cups Yuri's neck, opening his mouth up further.

Yuri tastes like cheap toothpaste and traces of nicotine, and Meemo had never thought that would get to him, but it does, his body aching for more of him, for as much of Yuri as he'll give.

Meemo's shirt is removed by Yuri's hands, broad and coarse as they map over his skin, touching bruises and marks left from altercations and a cigarette burn from where that woman in the hotel had gotten pissed off at him when he'd kicked her out.

Yuri breaks away from the languid, open mouthed kiss, hands gripping Meemo's shoulder blades, before pulling him closer and pressing his lips to his neck.

Meemo exhales sharply, hips rolling down against Yuri's lap, eyes sliding shut as Yuri's teeth lightly graze across his throat. 

Neither of them can seem to stand the long wait of this, hands mapping over flesh and material. They can feel how much they each want this, with every roll of Meemo's hips and every arch of Yuri's back as he rocks up to meet his touch.

"Enough waiting," Meemo says, when Yuri's thumbs are stroking above the waistband of his jeans. He looks down at him, pupils blown as he tugs open the towel around his waist. Eyes dragging across Yuri's body, peppered with scars and hair, skin paler than his own, Meemo takes in the sight of him. Fingers wrapping around Yuri's cock, hard and heavy in his palm, Meemo draws a grunt out of the Russian, who takes a moment before returning the gesture.

Yuri's hands are rougher, his refusal to wear gloves even in the harshest of weather showing as he pops open the button on Meemo's jeans and releases his cock from his boxers.

Meemo kisses him again, sighing into his mouth as Yuri touches him, thumb running over the head, already wet with pre-come. It's Meemo who slides a hand around the both of them, the weight of his own cock, heavy against Yuri's, drawing a noise from them both. 

Gripping Meemo's back, Yuri pulls him down against him until their bodies are aligned, Meemo's half off jeans creating a friction against Yuri's skin, but neither of them seem to care.

It's probably risky, doing this here when Varga hadn't let them known what time he'd be back, if he'd even be back that evening. They don't seem to care, though, not now, not after the weeks and weeks of what had lead up to this.

"Close," Yuri warns, nose bumping against Meemo's cheek as he breaks the kiss to catch his breath, a tightness building in his abdomen as Meemo's cock slides against his own. 

Meemo doesn't say anything, just nods and rolls his hips down, meets the arch of Yuri's as they lift from the cheap mattress of his cot. He lifts his head up slightly, hand pressed to the bed besides Yuri's head, looks down at his parted lips, red and wet from his mouth.

"What?" Yuri says, breathless, brow furrowed as he looks up at him. 

"I thought of you," Meemo says, fingers tracing down Yuri's cock, wrapping around the both of them again. "In the motel. I thought of your mouth."

Yuri's already flush skin flushes hot at his words, confusion lifting as his lips part and Meemo's fingers and cock twitch against him. Yuri doesn't know what to say as he grunts, fingers digging into Meemo's back. "Good." He comes with a groan, hot and hard and with his mouth pressed against Meemo's neck, cock twitching between them as he spills over Meemo's knuckles and his own stomach. 

Meemo kisses the breathlessness out of him, fingers pressed to his cheek as Yuri's hand wraps around him, edging him closer until he's following suit, in thick, hot ropes between them.

\- - -

Meemo is sat with his legs dangling outside the trailer, earphones in as he zips up his jacket around his bare chest, having not bothered putting his t-shirt back on from earlier. 

The familiar smell of nicotine hits him, and he can feel Yuri besides him, standing against the trailer door, cigarette between his lips. 

He looks up when he feels Yuri's foot, nudging at his thigh, a wordless cue for him to shift along so Yuri can take a seat besides him. 

Legs drawn to his chest, Yuri sits down, shielding his cigarette from the Minnesotan air as he takes a drag of it. His shoulder bumps against Meemo's, who stares out ahead of them into the darkness, hands dug into his pockets.

Tapping Meemo's shoulder, Yuri draws his attention and he gestures towards his earphones. 

Meemo takes the one closest to Yuri out, tinny music filling the air as Yuri takes it wordlessly and puts it into his own ear. Meemo remains silent, turning back to face ahead of him, a small smile threatening to play on his lips.

Yuri exhales a breath of smoke, it curling in front of him in the cold air. He frowns. "This music is shit."

Meemo smiles, amused. "You're shit."

Yuri shrugs, extending his hand to flick his cigarette ash out of the trailer. His fingers still when Meemo takes the cigarette from his hand, bringing it to his own lips to take a drag.

Watching him in silence for a moment, Yuri can't help but chuckle when Meemo coughs a little after exhaling the smoke. He bumps his shoulder against Meemo's, rocking him slightly. "Now who's shit?"

Meemo chuckles, calls him an asshole and stubs the cigarette into the trailer door.

\- - -

Varga seems to be busy lately.

He hadn't much need for the two of them, only occasionally getting them to stakeout the chief who'd tried to connect the Stussy murder to Ray and Emmit. 

Meemo finally gets his wish when they're sat in the car one evening.

Yuri reaches a hand across the clutch, presses it to Meemo's thigh and looks at him with dark eyes in the dim light of the car. 

Soon enough, the seat is reclined and Yuri's lips are wrapped around him, Meemo's fingers digging into his hair as he groans. 

Meemo doesn't know where Yuri learnt to do this, his cock hitting the back of Yuri's throat.

They're mostly non verbal during this, until Meemo is warning him that he's close and Yuri is nodding, lips still wrapped around him.

Meemo comes into the slick heat of his mouth, fingers scraping his scalp, and it's enough to get Yuri off alone.

\- - -

"We are about to become very rich, my friends," Varga says, picking at his teeth with a needle. He's got Stussy wrapped around his finger, and Chief Burgle doesn't seem to have a leg to stand on. "I am afraid that our partnership must end after this is over with though. I shan't be needing you two."

Yuri sits stone faced, hands dug into his pockets. He glances a look towards Meemo, who's stood leaning against the trailer wall, arms folded and watching Varga prowl around the room like a Shakespearean actor rehearsing a script. 

Memo looks towards Yuri momentarily, catching his eye.

"No doubt you'll have your own plans. Yuri, you can go back to Russia a richer man," Varga says, gesturing towards Yuri before stopping before Meemo and considering him for a second. He presses his lips together in thought. "And Meemo can go... to whichever Oriental place you came from."

Meemo frowns, fist clenching under his arm as he watches Varga continue parading around the room. 

"Will you return to England?" Yuri asks, genuinely curious. 

Meemo shoots him a look, as if he shouldn't have asked that.

Varga pauses, turning on his heel slowly to face him, that same creepy smile on his face. "Oh, no. Of course not. I shan't be doing that..."

He trials off, hands pressed behind his back as he remains lost in thought and walking around the room.

Meemo frowns, meeting Yuri's equally disturbed look.

\- - -

"Will you go home?" Meemo asks, the two of them sat on the edge of the trailer, sharing a cigarette between them.

"No," Yuri says, looking out into that familiar darkness and cold air. It's a comfort, a familiarity he's gotten used to. His shoulder bumps against Meemo's as he passes the cigarette to him. "What about you?"

Meemo exhales the smoke from his lungs. It's getting easier now. "I don't know. I'm bored of this job. I'll be happy when it ends."

Yuri doesn't know why, but Meemo's words make something inside of him clench. He swallows, throat tight as he looks ahead, nodding to stop himself from overthinking. 

Meemo stubs the cigarette out on the trailer door.

Yuri follows him back inside.

\- - -

They're in a motel again, Varga needing the trailer for something he won't tell them about. All he tells them is that it's close. They're going to be rich men soon.

There's two singles, although they both know only one will be used. 

Yuri is distracted for a while, beer in his hand as the TV blares some old cheesy American sitcom. 

He's thinking about their conversation in the trailer, the future, when Meemo takes the beer from his hand and leans over him, pressing his lips to the corner of his mouth.

It escalates from there, and soon enough, Yuri is concentrating on Meemo's skin and Meemo's mouth, on the fingers that trace over his tattoos and the way Meemo pushes him back against the mattress. 

Yuri crumbles beneath his touch, aching for something he hadn't ever thought he'd want, from anyone, especially not a man. 

Meemo presses a hand to Yuri's chest, looking down at him from his position above him, head tilted in a wordless question.

Yuri nods, legs wrapping around Meemo's waist. _"Fuck me."_

Meemo works him open with the lube he'd bought at the gas station along with the beers, watching as Yuri's tense muscles relax beneath him. 

Yuri is hard and wanting by the time Meemo is finished, and Meemo can't seem to hold back much longer either.

He fucks him with his fingers pressed into Yuri's mouth, grunting as Yuri sinks down onto his cock, meeting each rock of his hips with a groan.

Yuri comes without much of a hand, Meemo pressed inside him and the press of his stomach enough to leave his cock twitching as he pulls Meemo's neck down, kissing him with teeth and tongue.

Meemo comes pressed inside of him, forehead pressed to Yuri's chest.

\- - -

"You're quiet?" Meemo ponders, later on when they're side by side in the bed that's way too small for them to be sharing. 

"I'm thinking," Yuri says, staring at the ceiling as Meemo props himself up on his fist and looks at him.

"Dangerous," Meemo tuts, joking. 

Yuri looks at him, eyebrows drawn together. "Are you bored?"

Meemo frowns, confused. "Now?"

Yuri moves to sit up, facing away from Meemo, who tilts his head at the back of him. He scratches his neck, touches the bruise Meemo had left there with his mouth. 

He's so... awkward. Too many limbs and too rough around the edges. He doesn't know how to get across anything he feels. 

Meemo places a hand on his back, knuckles brushing against his skin. "No."

"You said you were bored," Yuri says, scratching at the bruise on his neck, as if it was suddenly irritating him. "With the job."

"The job has grown boring," Meemo replies. He senses it's not about that, though. He sits up, draws an arm around Yuri's shoulders, presses a hand to his chest and his lips to the shell of his ear. "Not you."

Yuri's breath catches in his throat, before coming out as a long sigh. A few months ago he'd be mocking himself for being this pathetic, for finding something with another man. 

"I don't know what will happen," Yuri says, turning his head as Meemo's lips meet his cheek. It's so... intimate, such a foreign thing for the both of them. How they'd grown to this is beyond them both. "Where will we go?"

"I don't know," Meemo says, fingers tracing the salt and pepper hair on Yuri's chest. "Canada?"

Yuri furrows his brow, twists his neck to look at him. "Canada?"

"It's cold," Meemo suggests, his chin tucked upon Yuri's shoulder. "If we don't kill each other, the cold will."

\- - -

"We could get married in Canada," Yuri says dryly, the two of them sat in the car, awaiting Varga's arrival. 

Meemo looks at him, squints before realising he's not actually being serious. He chuckles, punching Yuri lightly in the arm. "Shut up, asshole."

\- - -

They don't know where they're going from here.

Yuri presses the cigarette in his fingers to Meemo's lips, watches as the smoke curls out of his lungs.

Varga is coming back soon. 

It's close.

\- - -

"Asshole," Meemo hisses, hitting Yuri's shoulder as they drive past the border security.

"Come on," Yuri smirks, eyes fixed on the road ahead. There's a scar on his cheek, left there from the fallout of the absolute shit storm of a plan. "It was funny. The guard's face when I called you Meemo..."

"Those aren't our names," Meemo says, gesturing with his brand new passport, documented of course. 

"Ah yes, I am a full Canadian citizen now," Yuri grins at him in the overhead mirror, voice lowering an octave as he puts on a fake twang that sounds more Texan than Canadian. "Fleeing the land of the free."

Meemo presses his cheek into his hand, turning to look out the window at the Canadian landscape, disguising his laughter. He glances at Yuri in the overhead mirror, watches as the man moves his hand from the steering wheel to his knee. Jerking his leg up, Meemo scolds him. "Eyes on the road, asshole."

**Author's Note:**

> Don't @ me if the show ends with them both dead, tbh...
> 
> Can't believe Fargo has killed me w another henchmen ship.


End file.
